Why I Fight
by KyberWolf
Summary: "You are monsters!" Hera spat back, "You want to know why I became a pilot? Why I left my homeworld? Why I fight? I became a pilot because I was tired of living in fear, of living up to the expectations of Galaxy ruled by terror! "


**Heeeey everybody! Still working on Long Lost, I promise. But here's a little messy randomness in anticipation for the last of Rebels. Who else is terrified? This is just what I felt may have played out between Hera and Thrawn after Rebel Assault. Warning: this will be A.U. within 36 hours if I mathed that right. Warnings for mild violence, but this should be pretty safe. Enjoy! Please review and feel free to criticize my facts- I don't know as much as I'd like to about broken ribs or hand to hand combat. :)**

It took Hera a long time to remember exactly what had happened. It took a long time to assess her current situation. Much longer than it should have. That could probably be credited to the fact that Hera Syndulla had barely finished waking up from a close-range stun blast, courtesy of Govenor Pryce.

Waking up had proven far more difficult than regaining consciousness. The first thing she registered was the blinding artificial light scorching her pupils as her eyes fluttered open. She winced and squeezed her eyes shut. Her mind was blank and fuzzy. Any complete thoughts that tried to form themselves disintegrated into static. Everything was static. The feeling threatened to extinguish the small spark of wakefulness she'd gained. But the searing light bled through her eyelids, turning her vision blue. Which bothered her. A lot. Why? _Blue is supposed to be a soothing color_. That was a thought.

With her first comprehendible thought, Hera now registered pain. The static, numb feeling was wearing off. Hera immediately wanted it back. Her head throbbed, spots on her chest and torso hurt, her muscles twinged, her back ached something horrible, and her Lekku felt heavy and tender. Why? Why did everything hurt?

She was sitting somewhat upright on a hard surface and leaning against another. She knew immediately it wasn't a rebel medbay. She would be in a comfy bed, and no matter how sparse their resources, they'd always managed to find painkillers. And Kanan would be sitting next to her, probably rubbing her hand and waiting patiently, as she'd always done for him. Kanan wasn't here, and that sent a tiny wave of apprehension through her. Where was he? Where was everybody?

Still not ready to open her eyes yet, Hera went through a mental list of possible locations, trying to remember what had happened. The first thing that popped into her head was a leering reptilian face above her. Then governor Pryce staring disdainfully at her, raising her blaster. Hera's eyes flew open and her vision was washed in sharp white that seared her eyes. As it cleared, her eyes darted in all directions, her heartbeat rapidly rising to a fluttering, panicked pulse. She was sitting on a floor against a wall, and the room was solid, drab grey, the ceiling comprised of the bright, tormenting lights.

Hera knew exactly where she was, how she'd got there, and why everything hurt. But she couldn't quite believe it. Blood roared through her head and Lekku, pulsed behind her ear cones, her heart pounding almost painfully against her ribs. She tried to take a deep breath. She needed to calm down. But her inhale was cut off as her ribs on one side flared with pain. She could've sworn she heard a couple tiny clicks. She had shrunk in on herself at realizing she was in an imperial cell, drawn her legs to her aching chest and buried her face in her knees. Her muscles were taut and sore, and she probably looked like a pathetic little Twi'lek girl.

She needed to relax. She needed to relax and measure out her situation. She actually groaned as she tried to stretch out, the last of the numbness banished by angry bruises, and a head rush that blurred the edge of her vision.

Hera had now achieved wakefulness. She now noticed that her nice, warm, padded flight suit had been removed leaving only her thin black tank top and sweatpants. She shivered. It was chilly in her cell. She noticed the camera at the top corner of the room. She glared at it.

Cold and feeling rather exposed, Hera felt a single tear roll down her cheek. Their attack on Lothal had been a total disaster. A failure. How many pilots had survived the crash? How many others had been captured? Was her crew okay? Her family? They had accomplished nothing. How could they ever hope to liberate the entire Galaxy if they were demolished trying to free a single planet?

With nothing other than pain to distract her, these thoughts threatened to overwhelm Hera. She'd always known the Rebellion was small and fragile. A fledgling bird spreading delicate wings for the first time. One wrong step would have it tumbling to its death. She'd never tried to kid herself about that fact. But despite knowing just how unlikely it was that they would succeed at all, that they'd actually live to see that day, some small naïve part of Hera expected them to make it. They'd come out lucky so many times before. She couldn't help it.

Now she was sitting in an imperial cell, and she knew it was useless to measure out her situation. There was no way out this time. Hera was _not_ about to acknowledge the fact that Zeb, Sabine, Ezra, and Chopper...and Kanan were almost certainly going to embark on a completely impossible rescue mission for her. No doubt, they knew that extracting her from _Thrawn's_ custody made rescuing Kanan from Tarkin's star destoyer look like saving a grasshopper from a tooka kitten. But they would try anyway. _He_ would try. Not for one second did Hera imagine Kanan slicing a hole into that steel door with his lightsaber and whisking her away to safety, leaving another imploding star destroyer behind. The only feeling that accompanied any thought of Kanan coming for her was absolute despair. Thrawn would be ready.

If Hera had one thing going for her right now, it was the tiny hope that her family was still... going on. It might be the end of the line for Hera Syndulla, but _they_ weren't finished yet. With that thought in mind Hera just needed to be strong enough to resist whatever the Empire had in store for her. She would not be their doom.

Hours passed. At some point, masked guards had brought her a prison uniform, a ration bar, and some desperately needed water. Hera refused food but drank the water, careful not to show any relief. She was desperately dehydrated, but hoped to starve herself enough to ease interrogation. At this point, she had little fear of pain, but unlike Kanan, she was not a Jedi. She didn't have the Force on her side. She. Could. Not. Break. Besides, Hera was loathe to accept anything the Empire gave her. She donned the rough orange suit, though, knowing that if she refused, they would force her into it. That was a humiliation she would try to spare herself. She was a little stronger now and less delirious, but it still took a grueling amount of effort to pull it over her bruises and cracked ribs.

Hera almost wished they would hurry up do what they intended with her; she was tired of seeing Kanan's face popping into her mind's eye. Every time she remembered the look in his scarred eyes when she'd kissed him, tears threatened to roll down her cheeks. They'd kissed before. Gone farther even, but this one was different. It was a promise. And Hera had broken it. Knowing that she would never see him again threatened to break her faster than any torture could.

But at that moment Hera was given something else to think about. Something inside her instantly cooled and hardened as the prison door slid open with a mechanical whir, and the source of Hera's despair addressed her.

"Captain Syndulla, it is a pleasure to have you as my guest."

"General," she replied coolly and evenly, "And I am not your guest."

Hera kept her eyes shut as she said this, trying to look indifferent. She knew that when she had to look into those cruel red eyes, it would take all her self-control to not claw them out of the Chiss's face.

"As you wish, General," there was only the barest hint of sarcasm in his voice, "Either way, there are some things we need to discuss," he said stepping closer.

"Of course there are." Hera still didn't look at him.

"You will come with me. Willingly or otherwise."

Hera knew he meant it. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning as she tried to stand. She lowered her face to hide her grimace but it was woefully obvious how much pain she was in. It wasn't the first time she'd had to stand since waking, but that didn't make it any easier on her battered body. Again, she heard and felt the tiny clicks of fractured ribs, the pain blurring her vision. She probably would have toppled over if two guards hadn't stepped in after Thrawn. They weren't gentle, but were careful as they supported her into the corridor.

Hera didn't let her relief show as they entered a more dimly lit room with a plain table and two chairs. The short walk had been more grueling than she'd anticipated. The innocence of the room puzzled her slightly though; She'd expected the admiral would have an arsenal of torture devices set up already, even if he wouldn't use them right away. Before he'd seen how much he could soften her up without them. Deliberately, almost _gracefully_ —typical of his style—the Chiss rounded the table and sat down, placing his blue-skinned hands neatly on the surface. Hera slumped into the opposite chair willingly. She would have preferred to stand in defiance, but knew it wasn't worth it... and her legs were close to buckling beneath her.

"Leave us." He gestured to the guards who wordlessly left, the door sealing behind them. The two leaders were alone now. For a few moments they simply studied each other. The dim lighting made the shadows of Thrawn's face look like deep, cold water, his crimson eyes, though unnerving were filled with... curiosity? Hera found that quite insulting, for though she kept her features composed and missionary, her blood boiled with hate. He also took note of her bruised, pale skin, currently the color of dying grass, she imagined, as well as her limp Lekku, puffy eyes, and hitched breathing.

"I do apologize for your condition. Our medics are busy tending to our survivors. But I assure you you'll receive treatment for your injuries."

"Don't bother," She spat, "You're just going to torture me."

"Oh, I don't wish to torture you, General. Not until I have to." He smiled slightly, which unsettled Hera quite a bit, but she wasn't going to show it.

She'd been expecting a healthy mix of _Your_ _attack ended with the death of half your fleet. Lothal_ _is under my command and it won't be long before every planet you've tried to free will bow to the Empire as well._ _It is only a matter of time before I've caught rest of your crew. You and your Jedi can do nothing to save your pathetic revolution_. Hera was prepared to vehemently answer to any taunt or threat he put before her. Because of that, his first question caught her completely off-guard.

"How did you become a pilot?"

Hera's eyes widened in surprise. She barely managed to keep her jaw from dropping open. "W-what?" Hera stumbled.

"You were born on Ryloth. A poor, war-torn society, it's not where I'd expect the Rebellion's most formidable pilot to come from. So tell me, how did you learn to fly?"

 _What is he getting at?_ Perhaps she shouldn't have been too surprised; she knew Thrawn liked to study his enemies—deeper than their battle tactics and resources. Still, there had to be something behind this.

"Why do you want to know?" She said evenly, regaining her composure.

He leaned forward slightly, eyes drilling into hers. "We are not so different, you realize."

"I beg to differ."

"In a galaxy dominated by the human species, it can be difficult for different races such as ourselves to earn respectable positions. Even your Rebellion is lead almost entirely by humans. We are the exceptions. Ordinarily as a Twi'lek you would likely be a slave girl right now. So how did you do it? And why?"

Hera had no idea what to answer with. But Thrawn had no right to dig at her personal motives. "Numbers don't matter. I think we've proven that multiple times. Otherwise you wouldn't be here. We know they only called you in when we overwhelmed your inferiors. We out-smarted them and we'll out-smart you too."

"Given your most recent attack on Lothal, I doubt that. Though your persistence does intrigue me."

"Of course, it would."

"I was quite impressed when you managed to single handedly break our line of star destroyers."

"Sure." Hera had been rather proud of herself, despite it not mattering in the end, but coming from him, the compliment might as well have been an insult.

Thrawn continued, "So, I'll ask again. How did you become a pilot of such capability?"

"Jealous?"

"Curious."

"Hmph... Let's just say that unlike the Empire, we do not favor any one species over another. I had equal chance to learn from the best. "

The Grand Admiral considered this, his red eyes studying her. After half a minute, Hera wanted to squirm out from under his gaze.

"Very well, perhaps I'll get this answer another time. In the meantime, why don't you tell me everything you know about everything you know."

"Jump in a sarlacc pit."

" Where is your current base, or bases I assume now?"

Hera pressed her lips into a defiant line.

"The easy way or the hard. "

"Try me. I won't talk."

Thrawn leaned back with a slight sigh. "That's what I thought." He stood and strode to the door and knocked twice. The guards from before entered and stood on either side of Hera's chair. They'd probably been there the whole time. How flattering. As the Chiss exited, they each put a gloved hand under her arms and she clenched her teeth as they forced her to her feet.

/

Over the next twenty-four hours, Thrawn interrogated Hera five more times himself. True to his word, a medic had come to treat her injuries. They only did enough to patch her ribs and clean the numerous small cuts scattered over her body. They didn't bother with the painful bruises dealt to her by Rukh. Instead they focused on pumping her full of sedatives and other drugs. None of them caused pain, but they dulled her sensitivity, made her dizzy, sleepy, giggly, all of the above. All in an attempt to soften her mind enough for the Admiral to probe. It took all of Hera's concentration to not say anything useful. But she was successful none the less. Even in her delirious state, she could tell he was growing frustrated. She hadn't even told him why she'd become a pilot, though he did ask again, rewording the question each time.

/

Something had changed. The medics stopped coming to administer fresh drugs. Hera didn't feel groggy or giggly anymore. She just felt angry again. And analytical. This almost certainly meant that Thrawn was done playing games. She began mentally preparing for what probably awaited her even before he and his guards showed up to take her. The masked men stood on either side of the door at attention as Thrawn walked up to her, stopping only a foot in front of her. The Twi'lek stood her ground, met his laser gaze defiantly even as he towered over her.

"You are stubborn, General Syndulla. It is no surprise to me, but certainly inconvenient. Governor Pryce believes it's time we try to loosen your tongue through our usual methods."

"Give me your worst," Hera spat, contempt and an irritating spark of fear pulsing through her stiffened Lekku.

"In due time," The Chiss nearly smiled. "Before it comes to that I believe I can earn your cooperation through one more of my own techniques."

He turned, that sinister grin still playing on his lips. Apprehension bubbled inside Hera, as she was lead once again through the dim corridor. She was walking easier now that she'd received treatment. She'd suspected it was to keep her fit enough for interrogation, but Thrawn had made it clear that that was not his intension yet. What was his technique? An idea surfaced at the back of Hera's mind, one that she hoped to the Force wouldn't come true. But the more it grew in her mind, the more likely it seemed. How many others had they captured?

Her heart beat a little faster as they stopped. There was a sealed door, but instead of going through it, the men stopped her next to a clear view port to the room inside. There was the expected restraint apparatus, lined with a hulking electric shock device. Other sinister looking objects filled shelves at the back of the room, and next to this another door. This was what opened as her apprehension mounted.

Her heart skipped a beat as two masked interrogators dragged a young, positively broken looking Bothan between them. The fine fur around his face was crusted with blood. The thicker brown fur of his head and neck was singed black in places. He was one of the pilots she'd lead the attack with. It was him they shackled to the table. Hera realized Thrawn's intention with horror. This was a demonstration. And she was meant to watch. She shouldn't have shown any emotion, shouldn't have given this monster a single indication of advantage. She played right into his hands when she couldn't stop the gasp that slipped through her lips.

"I must say I'm impressed. This young rebel has proven to be just as tight lipped as you despite our best efforts. Considering whatever information he carries is far less than what you have to offer, he is no longer valuable to us."

Even as he said this, coolly almost casually, the Bothan let out horrifying scream as electricity crackled across his body. It only lasted for a few moments. It was a warning.

Hera's heart was thudding against her rib cage, a new sense of helplessness she'd never felt before threatening to overwhelm her.

"Where are the rest of your forces located?"

The Bothan, whose name Hera didn't even know, caught her gaze, eyes filled with determination and pain. He gave her a tiny shake of his head.

"Answer me."

…

Again, the Bothan screamed in agony, and in Hera's mind she heard the screams of every person she'd lost to the terror of war.

"Answer me, and this criminal will receive a painless execution."

Upon hearing that cool, silky voice, she'd grown to hate, something inside Hera snapped. She whirled, aiming a ferocious punch to the guard on her left. Caught completely by surprise neither of them stood a chance. She shook them off in seconds, and launched herself at Thrawn. Whether or not he'd been expecting this, the Chiss had extraordinary reflexes. He dodged her aggressive frontal, spinning to face her as she twisted around, crouched in a fighting stance.

Perhaps there were better ways Hera could've handled the situation; come up with a lie or cheap bargain in order to save her fellow rebel's life. But steadfast, integral General Syndulla was gone. Desperate, defeated, and pissed off Hera was here now, and this monster was going to pay. The guard she hadn't knocked out moved to intercept her but Thrawn waved him off; he too had taken a ready position, and he was smiling. Fury exploded in the Twi'lek rebel. She lunged, lashing out with too-aggressive strikes. Thrawn dodged or deflected them, then countered with two well-aimed blows to her flank as she moved too close. Hera realized well enough that her rage-fueled attack would not do much damage against Thrawn's cold, calculated prowess. She made a rapid retreat to catch the breath that he had just forced out of her lungs. Right now she didn't have to be calm, composed leader; she just needed to make this moment count. Stealing herself, she leaped forward, landing in front of him then feinting to the side, ducking under his next punch. To her immense satisfaction, he grunted as she landed a heavy blow to his stomach. She twisted behind him and jabbed his spine with her elbow, but before she could out maneuver him, Thrawn turned and grabbed her wrist, twisting her towards him so he could punch her abdomen. She yelped, but managed to wrench her arm out of his grasp and slam her fist into his jaw. They stumbled away from each other, Hera coughing on his blow to her gut, Thrawn rubbing his jaw.

"You rebels truly are uncivilized," He remarked as if she'd just told him a good joke.

"You are monsters!" Hera spat back, "You want to know why I became a pilot? Why I left my homeworld? Why I fight? I became a pilot because I was tired of living in fear, of living up to the expectations of Galaxy ruled by terror! "

She lunged again, aiming for his throat, he deflected it, and she dodged his counter blow. As they circled each other, she continued, " I left because war has torn my home, and family to pieces, because the only to stop it is to stand and fight!"

"The Empire is a means of peace and stability. You and your _terrorists_ disrupt that security. You turn worlds' citizens against each other, corrupt a stable economy, generate unrest. Worlds cannot rebuild when insurgents are spreading disunity."

Hera very nearly laughed. "Before Ryloth had even the slightest chance to recover from the Clone War, you sold my people into slavery! You fed off our resources without a thought of what it would cost us! And you've done the same to countless over planets. I've seen it myself."

Hera crouched and bulled into Thrawn, aiming a fierce assault to his gut. "I REBEL because all the Empire brings is suffering and oppression!"

She managed two solid hits before realizing her mistake. Bent over and half her weight supported on her adversary, she made an easy target as she couldn't regain her balance efficiently. There was no escape as Thrawn snaked an arm around her middle, holding her against him as he thrust his leg upwards. His knee and thigh slammed into her breasts and unhealed ribs. She cried out in pain, nearly going limp in his grasp. He took the opportunity to throw her to the ground. She almost blacked out as she hit the hard floor, coughing and hugging her chest. She sensed the Chiss slowly and deliberately prowling over to her, ready to finish the fight. With a final, pain filled effort, Hera rose to fend off his next attack. She actually managed to land a few more weak hits. But it was all over when Thrawn grabbed hold of her Lekku and yanked. Hera shrieked as he dug his fingers into her most sensitive flesh. Tears streamed down her face as he forced her to the ground.

As stormtroopers filed into the wide hallway, he bent down and whispered against her earcone, " You see, Hera Syndulla, this is where you are wrong. No matter who runs this Galaxy, there will always be worlds that suffer. There will always be people who are weak or incompetent or cruel. The Empire simply uses this to it's advantage, to uphold a stable society."

A faceless, white-clad trooper hauled the Twi'lek to her feet, another held a blaster to her back. Governor Pryce had entered the scene as well, a simultaneously expectant and apathetic look on her face.

Thrawn met her gaze. "I said I did not wish to torture you, General. But protocol demands it. I will give you one last chance to cooperate—know that we will get our answers one way or another, and that you will only be suffering for your pride."

"Go die."

"So be it."

He turned, all dignified and assertive, as if their battle hadn't left a single mark on him, and addressed the trooper Captain. "Captain, see to it that the Bothan is sent to the labor camps on Kessel."

"You won't win," Hera said venomously, knowing she could do nothing to save the pilot.

"We shall see. In the meantime, Governor Pryce will see to your interrogation."

Hera let them lead her away. She could only hold on, resist for as long as she could. But their duel, actually beating some scrap of a message into Thrawn's sick mind, had reignited something in Hera. Reminded her why she would never give in. Why she would never except defeat to the Empire. Her earlier thoughts of hopelessness were doused by the fact that whether or not she lived to see it, someone, somehow would see the Empire fall. The faces of her friends and family circled through her mind, and this time she let them. Whether or not she ever saw them again, Whether or not she would ever tell Kanan she loved him, they weren't finished yet.


End file.
